


Epiphany

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Grelle realizes that this is more than just a fling, Introspection, Lesbian Character, Trans Female Character, bisexual Grelle, coming to terms with feelings, lesbian Hannah, the reaper has officially caught feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Though her relationship with Hannah Annafellows began as a mere dalliance, Grelle comes to the realization that her feelings for the demon have blossomed into something more.
Relationships: Hannah Annafellows/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> This work is set in my main Grellefellows AU, a few weeks after "A spark is kindled, and a seed is planted."

Grelle descended from the sky like a bolt of lightning. Her high heels dug into the soil as she skidded to a halt in front of the cottage, hair whipping wildly about her. She grinned and revved her chainsaw…only to be confronted with Hannah’s disarming smile of welcome. Unlike the last few times Grelle visited, the demon standing in the doorway did not carry that twisted sword she could pull from her maw at will. “No battles today, little one. Come here.” Hannah’s outstretched arms were open to her, and the demon’s eyes shone blue as the heavens. Too surprised to protest, Grelle lowered her death scythe, letting a black tentacle courteously remove the weapon from her hand and place it by the door. Meanwhile, Hannah gathered Grelle to her bosom, and the reaper gladly sank into her embrace.

Hannah was deviating from the script. She dared to improvise a new scene for their private melodrama! Their encounters to date had followed a simple pattern: Lady and demon would spar until a clear victor emerged, after which they’d make spectacular love to one another before the reaper departed. Grelle _did_ so enjoy the occasional dalliance; heaven knew she needed _something_ to break up the endless monotony of the dispatch. Her paramour belonged to the race whose hunger for souls brought them into direct opposition against the gods tasked with reaping them, but the hazards only made Grelle savor their trysts that much more.

Once they’d won Grelle’s heart (or thought they had—for in truth, capturing the wind would have been an easier feat than taming the red reaper), new lovers struggled to keep it. Normally, she’d have lost interest by this point. Passion ravaged Grelle and the objects of her affection alike with the intensity of a forest fire only to die away to cold, black embers come morning. The moment after “love” was obtained marked the apex of her restless discontent, romance souring to a foul aftertaste on the back of her tongue, red fading to lifeless gray. Hannah, however, made Grelle burn more brightly with every touch, every kiss. Grelle was drawn inexorably to her. She could no more have resisted this pull than the ocean could rebel against the tides. With each visit, she’d stay a little longer, leave with greater regret, and spend more time sighing over the demon until she could sneak away again. It mattered not. They’d keep the affair neat and tidy, as ladies should. Grelle was sure this would fizzle out soon enough. All the others had before.

Then why this inexplicable change? Such tenderness was unprecedented from the demon. She rested her cheek on the crown of Grelle’s head while she stroked her hair, and Grelle breathed in the comforting scent of lavender that clung to her skin. No one had touched her like this in decades, if ever. A hug without a jot of selfish lust to it…

“I thought I’d show you my garden today,” Hannah said excitedly, slipping her hand into Grelle’s and leading her to a plot of land behind the cottage.

“A demon, planting a garden? But I thought your kind preferred marauding and tempting souls down the path of sin, my sweet.”

“Creatures of darkness crave beauty just as those of the light do. Perhaps more. It cleanses my palate from the suffering on which I feed.”

While Hannah proudly pointed out the vibrant flowers blooming with a glory that put Solomon’s to shame, Grelle stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. The demon’s happiness flowed through her like a rushing river bearing Grelle away to a foreign land. Their hands fit together with alarming ease. Then Hannah turned and smiled at her with a radiance that outshone the sun, and the reaper knew she was doomed.

Juliet, Rosalind, Beatrice—they were dross compared to Hannah Annafellows. Grelle would drown in those kyanite eyes…

_Oh, damn. I’m in love. With a demon. Oh dear_. The realization hit Grelle with a quiet sort of shock. It was like missing the last step on a staircase; she knew she was falling, but there was nothing she could do except hurtle down. A part of her wanted to rip her hand from Hannah’s grasp, flee this place as quickly as she could, and never come back. Hannah could _hurt_ her now in ways that most people never would. Grelle was accustomed to the pain of rejection. Nobody wanted her, not for long, at least, but she’d learned to live with that pain because it was among the few things that made her feel truly alive. That was why she sported the bruises darkening her skin after William’s kicks and punches like badges of honor. But how the hell was she supposed to cope with intimacy?

Hannah kissed Grelle’s cheek, and the reaper found herself blinking back tears. “They’re marvelous, darling.” Instead of pulling away, she tightened her grip as her soul reached out towards the demon’s kindness like ivy climbing to the light.

The curtain had risen on a new act, and Grelle had neither script nor prompter to guide her. Still, a consummate actress saw a role to its conclusion with grace and flair. Fear of the unknown would not deter her. If she was destined to love Hannah, Grelle would do so the only way she knew how—with fiery passion. Maybe this time, just maybe, that love would burn as an eternal flame.

**Author's Note:**

> the vibrant flowers blooming with a glory that put Solomon’s to shame: Taken from Matthew 6:28-29 (King James Version): "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."


End file.
